


The Pirate Prince and the Rat King

by Blue_fantasy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Nutcracker Fusion, Canon Universe, Euron Greyjoy has no shame, F/M, Good Cousin Jon, Happy Ending, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Jon is a Stark, Kid Ramsay is a rotten brat, Melisandre works her magic, New Year's Eve, POV Sansa Stark, Theon Greyjoy is the Nutcracker, Uncle Benjen is everyone's favorite uncle, Uncle Rodrik and Uncle Benjen are the best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_fantasy/pseuds/Blue_fantasy
Summary: During the Stark family’s annual King’s New Year’s Eve celebration at Winterfell, the Stark children are gifted a nutcracker dressed as an Ironborn pirate prince. Suffering damage from mishandling during the festivities, the nutcracker is placed in eight-year-old Sansa Stark’s care. Attempting to nurse the poor nutcracker back to health, she takes him to the nursery and tucks him into her doll’s bed for the night. Just as she is about to tiptoe to her room, strange magical things begin to happen around the nursery. Her care and concern for the nutcracker leads her on a fantastical adventure from toy battles to legends of family betrayal to a journey in the realm of an ancient god. Her kind heart and brave spirit is something the pirate prince will never forget.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: Theonsa Yuletide Gift Exchange





	1. The King's New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fangirl_from_Philly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_from_Philly/gifts).



> Story inspired by The Nutcracker and the Mouse King by E. T. A. Hoffmann (1853)
> 
> A gift to Fangirl_from_Philly for the Theonsa Yuletide 2020 Gift Exchange - I hope you enjoy the story :-)

❄❄❄❄🌲❄❄❄❄

“Can you see what Uncle Benjen has brought us?” Sansa asked as she craned her neck from side to side hoping to get a glimpse of the Great Hall around her brother Robb’s head as he peeped through a crack in the masonry from their little hiding place.

It had become a tradition for the two eldest children of Lord Eddard Stark to spend most of their daylight hours on the eve of the King’s New Year stowed away in a small hiding place under the servants’ stairs next to the Great Hall. The children were not allowed in the room until sundown, allowing the servants to prepare without disruption and for Lord and Lady Stark to put on a grand unveiling of the wonders within to begin the festivities. 

Over the centuries, the mortar between some of the stones had fallen away to dust, leaving a perfect little hole to spy on the preparations for the big feast and celebration. And while they both were excited to see what new and marvelous decorations their mother had conjured up each year, they were mainly there to see the gifts their parents and relatives had placed for them under the massive fir tree Ser Roger Cassel and his guardsmen had chopped down in the Wolfswood and installed in the Great Hall of Winterfell.

“I think I see swords,” Robb answered his sister.

“What else? What else?” She responded impatiently.

“Maybe some sort of doll?”

“Ooh, let me see! Robb, let me see!” She exclaimed as she tried to push her brother away from the peephole. A new doll would be perfect seeing as her old doll, Yara, could scarcely sit up on her own any longer and had gathered an array of scratches about her face from falling over onto the ground. “Move over, Robb. You are not being fair. It is my turn.”

Reluctantly, the boy leaned away to allow his little sister a view of the wonders on the other side. 

“I don’t know, Robb,” she said doubtfully as she peered at the gift in question. “It seems larger than most of my other dolls and a bit boxy. I’m not so sure that is a doll for me.”

Suddenly, a bell rang through the castle. Robb and Sansa sat frozen for a moment staring at one another, eyes wide, in their dark hiding place. Just a sudden, they were both scrambling to their feet, bursting from under the staircase, startling the old steward, Vayon Poole, as he made his way through the servant’s passage.

“Deepest apologies,” Sansa called back with a wave as she followed her brother to the grand entry doors of the Great Hall. They were the first to arrive, standing before the two large wooden doors towering high above them. They were soon joined by Ayra, Bran, and toddling little Rickon with a concerned-looking cousin Jon hovering over the youngest Stark.

“Arya, stop pushing,” Sansa said as Arya and Bran shoved at each other behind her.

“Bran started it,” Arya whined.

Just when Sansa thought she couldn’t wait any longer, she heard the iron locks unlatch and the wooden bars slide across the other side of the doors. With that, the doors slowly opened into the hall revealing a magical scene before them.

❄❄❄❄🌲❄❄❄❄

Catelyn Stark had outdone herself this year. The children stood frozen at the threshold, mouths agape. The tree was trimmed with flickering candles and every sweet a child’s mind could ever imagine. Set upon the branches were lemon drops, Dornish sugar plums, pecan brittle, honeyed raisins, chamber spice candies, and so much more. And under all the delicious treats was an elaborate display of gifts for the children.

“Well, children, are you waiting for those sweets to magically fly into your open mouths or are you going to go enjoy your gifts?” Sansa heard her father say, her eyes glued on the beautiful new gown she knew her mother had made for her, displayed for all to see. The azure-colored silk, trimmed in silvery ribbons, shimmered in the candlelight.

Robb and Jon, being boys of twelve years and near fighting age, ran straight for the swords, unsheathing them and watching as the light flickered on the shiny new blades. Bran, being just four name days, found a Bran-sized wooden sword and a handsome new hobby-horse, galloping around the hall shouting commands to his imaginary regiment. Arya was right by his side with her own toy sword and stick horse, Lady Catelyn chasing behind telling her the toys were not befitting a lady as she sent furious glances toward their Uncle Benjen who was laughing alongside his brother, Lord Eddard.

As the Stark children explored the array of gifts and tasted the sweets, lords and ladies of the Northern vassal houses along with their children filtered into the Great Hall. Each year, a different grouping of Northern houses attended the King’s New Year’s celebrations at Winterfell. This particular year, Lord Jorah Mormont and Lady Lynesse were in attendance along with a number of their nieces, favored playmates of the Stark children. The four Mormont girls, ranging from the ages of 4 to 15, seamlessly joined in play with the older Stark boys as well as Arya and the little ones. Sansa, not being one for swordplay, was content to sit quietly perusing the beautiful new books Uncle Benjen had brought from Old Town.

One book captured her attention in particular. It was a beautifully illuminated version of one of her favorite legends, the story of Jonquil and her knight, Florian the Fool. She found the story endearing and daydreamed that one day she might be half so lucky to have some brave knight or lord come to her aid like the Galant Florian. 

As she flipped through the pages, she felt as if she was being watched. She looked up to her side and met eyes with a boy standing in the shadows along the wall. He seemed to be of a similar age to her older brother and cousin, but he was not joining in the ruckus that the older group of children had struck up. He had wide yet sloped shoulders with dark brittle hair hanging down past them. His thick lips were arched into a smile as his small dark eyes seemed to bore a hole in Sansa. The boy sent shivers and a queasy feeling over her and she quickly looked back down at her book. Looking up in a different direction, she watched the handsome heir to the Dreadfort, Domeric Bolton, nod to his father and walk over to the dark irksome boy along the wall. Domeric put his arm around the boy in an affectionate brotherly manner. At that moment, she saw similarities between the boys. Sansa wondered if this was another son of Lord Bolton.

Sansa’s attention was pulled to the gift table where her mother was handing little Lyanna Mormont a stuffed bear that she had lovingly sewn for the youngest of the Mormont girls. In an instant, the little one snatched the bear into a tight hug and then cradled it the same way Sansa cradled her dolls. At that, Sansa wondered if there was a new doll for her among the gifts. She had seen a glimpse of something that could have been a doll, but it looked nothing like Yara and her other dolls fixed up with dresses and ribbons.

Uncle Benjen always gave the best gifts. As he journeyed around the seven kingdoms as an emissary for her father, he collected the most curious and unique gifts imaginable. Sansa was determined to find the doll she had glimpsed from her hiding place earlier. She had a feeling this particular gift would be fascinating.

Her search for the doll was interrupted by a commotion near the entry doors where she saw Robb and some of the other older children snickering at something. Upon closer look, she realized they were laughing at her sister, all adorned in her new dress and ribbons made by their mother, a giant scowl on her face and her hands clenched at her sides. Lady Catelyn, feigning obliviousness to her youngest daughter's anger and discomfort, gushed over the dress and fabric to Lady Lynesse. Sansa was about to go rescue her sister when good cousin Jon, wearing a pained expression, wrapped his arm around Arya’s shoulders and guided her out of the hall. He was always so good with Arya, always able to calm her when no one else could.

Sansa turned back toward her mission, finally spotting the peculiar gift behind a collection of tiny toy soldiers intended for Bran. She lifted a low hanging branch of the tree to reveal a stiff hand-painted wooden figure about the same size as her dear doll, Yara. He was standing there silently as if waiting for her to notice him. He was not a beautiful thing like the dolls Sansa had been gifted in the past. He seemed quite out of proportion making him seem at first a bit grotesque with his head much larger than it should have been for the slender body. But to Sansa, she found his good-humored expression endearing. He was not brightly attired in shining armor like the knights in Bran’s silver soldier set. Instead, he was covered in a thin set of boiled armor with a sea creature of some type upon his breastplate. If she remembered correctly from her lessons, the Ironborn did not wear metal armor so they wouldn’t sink if they went overboard at sea. She also remembered that this creature must be a kraken which was the sigil of House Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. 

Uncle Benjen must have obtained this gift on his visit to the islands. The figure was equipped with an ax hanging from his belt and a bow and quiver on his back. And while his armor and weaponry were not as flashy as that of the knights from her fairy tales and legends, he seemed to stand in a proud regal pose, the wood-carved crown upon his head leading Sansa to believe he may be a prince or king.

While she had taken a liking to him at first sight, the more Sansa gazed at the little figure, the more she noticed his friendly and good-natured expression, his sea-green eyes seeming to sparkle in the candlelight of the fir tree, as if by magic. As she studied his expression, she wondered about the odd squareness of his large wooden teeth bared in his smile.

“Uncle Benjen, who does the charming wooden pirate belong to?” She asked her uncle after crossing the hall to where he stood with her father.

“He will work hard for all of you,” her uncle smiled down at her as he set his hand gently on her back and guided her over to the little wooden man, grabbing a bowl of nuts from a table as they approached. “He can crack the hardest nut with his teeth.”

With that, Uncle Benjen lifted the quiver on the little man’s back revealing it to be a lever that opened his mouth showing the sharpness of his teeth. Her uncle took a walnut from the bowl and placed it between the little man’s teeth. He proceeded to push down on the lever and Sansa heard a crackling as the wooden Ironman crushed the shell. Releasing the lever, Uncle Benjen took the nut from between the teeth and peeled away the pieces of shell to reveal the meat of the walnut, handing it to Sansa who immediately popped the delicious bits into her mouth with a smile. With her uncle’s encouragement, she began to crack nuts between the wooden pirate’s teeth. Soon, the other children began to gather around them, asking to have a try at cracking nuts in the little man’s teeth. 

“Sansa, since he seems to be quite a favorite with you, I place him in your care. Remember that all these children have just as much right to use his services,” Uncle Benjen said as he set the little pirate prince in her arms.

As Sansa watched over him, children gleefully pressed nuts in between his teeth and walked away chewing on the treat they had retrieved.

“Give it to me,” she heard a demanding voice say as she was bent down sweeping nutshell pieces into a bowl. She looked up to see the dark menacing boy that had been staring at her earlier. “I want a turn with that ugly thing.”

Sansa hesitated, shocked at the way the boy spoke to her. A foreboding feeling came over her as she cradled the nutcracker protectively and turned away from the boy’s reach. But it was not enough and the boy yanked the figure from her grip.

“Ha, a no-good reaving and raping pirate,” he scoffed as he looked the figure up and down. “Let’s see how tough you really are.” Sansa, in shock over the boy’s crude language, watched as he fished through the bowl of nuts and came up with a macadamia nut that she had seen men cracking with a flat hammer throughout the evening.

“Please be careful with him,” she cried. “He might chip a tooth on that nut.”

“He’s a nutcracker. He should be able to crack any nut,” the boy said to her, smiling cruelly at the little pirate prince as he placed the nut between his teeth.

“No, please don’t!” Sansa begged as she tried to reach for her dear little nutcracker. The boy side-stepped into her, knocking her to the floor. She heard a large painful crackling come from the nutcracker, different from anything she had heard that evening. She felt tears burning behind her eyes, fearing the worst for her dear nutcracker.

“Stupid thing. What good are you?” The boy dropped the nutcracker to the floor and stomped on him. Sansa heard another horrid crack.

“No!” She screamed, scrambling to rescue the pirate prince from the evil boy.

“Ramsay, stop!” A voice shouted across the room. Sansa looked up to see Domeric Bolton rushing toward them, grabbing the malicious boy by the arm. 

“What is going on here?” Her uncle’s voice boomed with concern as he crouched beside his niece, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

“My apologies, Lord Stark. Lady Sansa,” Domeric responded, bowing his head to each of them. “My brother struggles with social etiquette at times. He has only recently joined us at the Dreadfort and is not yet acclimated to events such as this. Please forgive him. Forgive us.”

With that, Domeric pulled his brother across the hall to a frowning Lord Roose Bolton. Sansa crawled over to the injured nutcracker, cradling him in her arms and picking up his broken teeth and little wooden fingers that had broken off in the assault.

“Oh, Uncle, poor nutcracker! He is broken to pieces. Will he ever be able to crack another nut?” She fretted.

“With someone as caring as you to look after him, he will be cracking nuts again in no time,” Benjen responded as he placed the teeth back and wrapped a cloth around to hold them in place. He wrapped another bit of cloth around to hold his fingers in place. “Take good care of him tonight, nurse him back to health, and I will take him to be repaired in the morning.” At that, he helped her up from the floor and kissed her forehead.

❄❄❄❄🌲❄❄❄❄

After hours of jovial celebration and generous gifting, the crowd in the Great Hall began to thin as guests turned into their chambers and sleeping children were collected into their fathers’ arms and carried to bed. Sansa, still cradling her pirate prince, sleepily followed behind her Uncle Benjen who cradled little Bran just as gingerly so as not to wake the rambunctious boy. 

Up to the children’s chambers, they climbed. As her uncle turned into Bran and Rickon’s room, Sansa entered the nursery to put her precious little nutcracker to bed. She quietly padded over to her dolls where little Yara sat upon her doll bed.

“Oh, Yara dear, will you be so good as to give up your bed to this poor wounded nutcracker?” Sansa asked as she lifted her doll from the bed and set her in a chair. She laid the nutcracker in the bed and placed a small doll blanket over him. “Dear friend Nutcracker, I will do all I can to fix what that rotten boy did to you and get you back to health.”

Suddenly, at the mention of the terrible Bolton boy, it seemed as if the pirate prince’s eyes came to life, a twinkle in his green eyes that seemed to glow and a sad expression on his face. At first, this frightened Sansa but when she turned back to him, he was just the Nutcracker. She thought to herself that it must have been the flickering light of the candle that played a trick on her eyes, for surely the Nutcracker could not come to life. She chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Keep a watchful eye on him and take care while I sleep. Be a good nurse while I am gone,” she told her little doll, Yara, as she moved her chair to the side of the doll bed. She took the gray satin ribbon from her dress and placed it over the Nutcracker.

Sansa raised her arms in a stretch as she released a large yawn. She stood up on sleepy legs with half-shut eyes. As she reached for the candle holder, she heard a hideous scratching and squeaking from the back corner of the nursery. She froze for a moment, realizing these were the same sounds she heard any time she had ventured down into the crypts below Winterfell. She knew what could be making that sound. Frightened, she turned slowly toward the sound and saw an army of huge rats with glinting red eyes emerging from behind Old Nan’s chair. And soon they seemed to be coming at her from every direction. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound caught in her throat when she saw the largest rat emerge from under the chair with a driftwood crown on his head, a patch over one eye, and a sword in his hand. It was as if one of Old Nan’s crazy tales had come to life before her eyes.

Was she dreaming? Had she already fallen asleep and this was her nightmare? Her heart was beating so hard in her chest from fright, she thought she might die. She slowly stepped backward toward the shelves where the children stored their toys, where she had just laid poor Nutcracker down. The squeaking and squawking and scratching and gnawing of the rats filled the room. Sansa could not think, could not focus. She lifted her hands to her ears as she continued to back up, crashing her elbow into the glass of a cabinet door, a sharp pain in her arm, shards clinking onto the stone floor. At that, the rats silenced and backed away.

In the quiet, Sansa heard movement behind her. She feared it was the rats. But instead, she began to hear little voices.

“Up and take arms! Awake to fight this night!” Sansa spun around to see her dear Nutcracker alive, shouting commands at the other toys. All before her, the figures flashed and sparked with a green glow. She watched as the figures stretched and bent. Preparing themselves for battle at the pirate prince’s command.

She watched in awe as the Nutcracker threw the blanket off and stood up from the bed. Yara also stood from her little chair. She helped the Nutcracker as he took Sansa’s gray ribbon, pressed it to his lips, and tied it about his neck.

“Your favor, fair Lady Sansa, will go with me into battle,” the pirate prince said as he looked up at her. Had she been reading too many of those fairy tales from Uncle Benjen’s books?

The Nutcracker lept into battle against the Rat King’s army, her doll Yara right behind him. They were joined by Bran’s silver knights and Rickon’s carved wooden direwolves. Sansa looked over the battle and saw all her dolls in action, the little court fool and ladies in waiting. Her carved wooden Dothraki horses that Uncle Benjen had gifted her the previous year, galloped through the battlefield.

The fighting went back and forth, one moment the Nutcracker and his troops were gaining on the rats, the next they found themselves cornered. Back and forth and round the nursery until finally, when all were utterly exhausted, the Nutcracker found himself surrounded by his foe. Seeing that no reinforcements were in sight, the Rat King screeched and leaped toward the Nutcracker.

“Oh, my poor Nutcracker!” Sansa shouted at once, grabbing her shoe off her foot and flinging it at the Rat King. In an instant, everything on the floor seemed to scatter. Sansa felt the sharp pain in her arm again and a lightness in her head. The room began to turn and she felt as if she was sinking into the floor, into darkness.


	2. The Legend of the Pirate Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Benjen tells Sansa a story about a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @Fangirl_from_Philly, I haven't forgotten you :-)

❄❄❄❄🌲❄❄❄❄

Sansa felt a warmth emanating around her and noticed a bright glow through her shut eyelids. She was lying down and felt as if her limbs were weighed down with chunks of ice. Every sound around her was muffled as if she was trying to listen through the wooden door to her father’s solar. Slowly, she gained control of herself and the sounds grew crisp.

“Has she awoken?” She heard her Uncle Benjen ask from across the room.

“No, but I believe she may soon. She has begun to stir,” her mother answered, sounding so close, she must have been right at her side.

“Poor thing. I should have checked on her after putting Bran to sleep,” her uncle said, guilt tinging his voice.

“Do not blame yourself, good-brother. I have found her up past her bedtime many a night lost in one of her books or some imaginary make-believe world amongst her toys. I should have known she’d be too excited to sleep with all her new gifts, especially that little nutcracker you gave her.”

With that, the memories of the battle came flooding back to Sansa. Her dear Pirate Prince Nutcracker and his army of toys battling the rats that had swarmed her nursery. She opened her eyes and tried to raise her arm to block the bright sun streaming through her window.

“Oh. Ah,” she groaned at the pain shooting through her arm.

“Sansa dear, thank the Seven you’re awake. You had us all so frightened,” her mother said as she began to fuss with her blankets, brushing her hair back from her head, and then moving to her arm. Sansa tucked her chin into her chest to look down her body at her arm wrapped in linen bandages.

“What-,” she stuttered as she tried to understand how she was injured.

“You stayed up late playing with your new toys and must have stumbled into the glass cabinet in the nursery. Your father found you in a pool of blood on the floor,” her mother explained. “Lifeless,” she added with a frightened hitch and raised a kerchief clutched in the hand to her lips, closing her eyes tight as she gripped Sansa’s uninjured arm.

“It was the rats,” she rasped, her mouth dry.

“The rats?” Her mother looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yes,” she continued as she tried to prop herself up with her good arm, Uncle Benjen quickly stepping over to her bed to help her sit up. “I was putting my dear Nutcracker to sleep in Yara’s bed in the nursery when we were attacked by the Rat King and his army of rats.”

“Oh, Sansa, you and your imagination--”

“This was real, mother,” she interrupted, her eyes pleading with her mother to listen and believe her.

“Catelyn, rats could have come up from the crypts,” her uncle spoke, trying to help her.

“No, Uncle, these rats acted differently from the ones in the crypts. They had a king who wore a wooden crown like the one on the Nutcracker and he had a patch over one eye.” At this, her uncle froze, a look of concern crossing his already serious expression.

“Really, Sansa, this is enough,” Catelyn told her daughter as she touched the back of her hand to Sansa’s forehead and cheeks, checking for fever.

“Go ahead, Sansa,” her uncle said, drawing a glare from his good-sister. “Tell me more.”

Catelyn huffed in exasperation. “Well, you do not seem to have a fever. I think you just need more rest and a good meal. I’ll go have something sent up to you.” With that, her mother stood and left the room. 

Her Uncle Benjen took her mother’s place in the bedside chair. He gave her a gentle smile and a nod to continue her story.

“Well, as I told you, I was putting the poor injured Nutcracker to bed when we were set upon by the Rat King and his army. And you wouldn’t believe it, Uncle! My dear Nutcracker sprang to life along with all our toys and they went to battle against the rats,” she paused a moment, watching her uncle’s reaction to what she knew was quite an unbelievable tale. When he didn’t flinch, she continued. “For a while, I thought surely my dear Nutcracker and his troops would win but suddenly the Rat King had him cornered. I couldn’t let him come to any more harm so I took off my shoe and threw it at the Rat King. The rats scurried into the shadows and, well, that is all I seem to remember.”

“That is quite a dream, sweet niece,” he humored her with a warmer smile.

“Oh, but it wasn’t a dream, Uncle. It was so real. It had to be real.” She looked down at her bandaged arm and shook her head. It had to be real. It seemed all so real.

“Hm,” her uncle said as he looked over her bed and out the window with a serious expression, folding his arms across his chest. After a moment, he looked back at his little niece. “Now it is my turn.”

“Your turn?” Sansa asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“It is my turn to tell you a story about your dear little nutcracker friend,” he answered with a smile as if he was about to share with her the best-kept secret in the world.

“The nutcracker you show so much affection for was gifted to me by the Prince Euron of the Iron Islands on my most recent emissary visit to his kingdom. It was the first time a representative of the Warden of the North had traveled to the islands since the prince had received his new title. You see, the Iron Islands are one of the Seven Kingdoms just like the north and Prince Euron’s brother ruled the kingdom before him. But his brother did not hold the title of “prince”. He was known as Lord Balon Greyjoy, just as your father is known as Lord Eddard Stark. Though, just before his death he titled himself King Balon and tried to declare the Iron Islands an independent kingdom. Prince Euron seemed to have received this new title of 'prince' in return for his help to put down his brother’s insurrection.”

“Like the Prince of Dorne,” Sansa added, excited to contribute knowledge gained from her studies.

“Yes, just like that,” Benjen responded. “And I thought that there were other princes in the Iron Islands, the sons of Euron’s late brother. But I discovered that the two older brothers perished in their father’s rebellion and the youngest boy was rumored to have been lost at sea. Only Balon’s daughter survived.”

“A princess!”

“Indeed. Princess Yara.”

“Just like my doll!” Sansa gasped.

“Oh, your doll is named Yara? How curious,” Benjen paused for a moment, his eyes focusing beyond Sansa. “No matter. On with our story, then?”

“Yes, indeed!” And she sat in raptured silence as her uncle recounted his tale.

❄❄❄❄🌲❄❄❄❄

On the day of Benjen Stark’s arrival, the same day he was gifted the dear Nutcracker, Prince Euron held a feast in honor of the Northern envoy. As Benjen observed the evening, he noticed how sad and sullen Princess Yara seemed as she sat by her uncle’s side. There were even moments when she picked fights with his men. Her tough ruggedness reminded him much of his niece, Arya.

Euron himself was a formidable presence. He was tanned and salt-stained by the sun and sea, the driftwood crown upon his head, a patch over one eye. Benjen wondered if he would hear the story behind that wound. Euron seemed the type of leader who might boast of how he earned his scars.

As the feast wore on, and the Ironborn got deeper in their cups, Benjen was about to turn in to his guest quarters when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Not much one for the drink, are ya, greenlander?” A coarse voice came from the man he had seen speaking with the princess on occasion that night. He was more well-dressed than all the other Ironborn in the hall but by his accent, Benjen knew he was from the islands. “It is alright. We tend to drink to drown out the dreariness of these forsaken rocks. I’m Rodrik Harlaw, uncle to the young princess there and her younger brother, Prince Theon.”

Benjen had heard of this man before and found it curious that he claimed one of his nephews and not the other two who had died in battle.

“Ah, yes, good-brother to the late Balon Greyjoy. Rodrik of Ten Towers. I hear that you have quite an extensive library there,” Benjen responded.

“A favorite respite for my nephew, Theon. He has always been quieter than his older brothers were.”

“I have a niece that is the same way: quieter than her siblings and frequently found squirreled away in Winterfell’s library with a book.”

“Not sure how much reading Theon actually does in there, but it has always given him a reprieve from his father, brothers, and other uncles.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Rodrik, for your loss,” Benjen responded politely, thinking the man in his grief was continuing to refer to his nephew as if he were alive.

“My loss? For my good-brother and his eldest sons?” Rodrik looked at him with slight confusion. “There is no love lost there, my lord. I know that may seem cold and harsh but they were all cold harsh men.”

“Um, my apologies, I must have misunderstood,” Benjen looked down feeling a bit embarrassed at the misunderstanding.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I have a feeling you were referring to the stories being told of my youngest nephew, Theon. Euron claims he was lost at sea on his return from Dragonstone after the rebellion.”

“But he was not?”

“No.” The old man was staring intently at the nutcracker sitting beside Benjen. After a long moment of silence, Rodrik leaned in and began to speak quietly.

“He is there,” Rodrik said, gesturing with a nod at the nutcracker. “In that wooden pirate Euron brought back with him. The supposed prince of the Iron Islands thought that cutting off all the tongues of his crew would keep his secrets safe. He never thought for a moment that even one of those men knew how to read and write.”

Benjen watched as the lord of Harlaw leaned back slightly, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Euron has always been a rotten squid. I always feared he could be the downfall of our people and bring death and ruin to my sister and her children. I may not have cared much for my eldest nephews, but my sister loved them and her heart is broken. Long before Balon began his rebellion, long before my sister’s children were grown, I knew Euron was a threat to their lives. So, I sent one of my men to infiltrate Euron’s crew. This boy had been an orphan on Harlaw and Gwynesse, my other sister, having no children of her own, had taken him in to help with odds and ends around the Towers. I found him sneaking into my library often and began to teach him to read and write. Eventually, he became a loyal trusted man to House Harlaw and was willing to spy on Euron on my behalf, even knowing what torment and torture may await him at the hands of Euron.”

Benjen nodded as the man continued his story while they sat in the back of the hall at Pyke, loud drunken Ironborn stumbling about, spilling as much ale as they consumed, continuing to feast.

“This loyal man watched over Theon after Euron had killed Balon and taken the boy upon his ship under the guise of protecting his legitimate heir.”

“Wait,” Benjen interrupted. “I thought Balon’s death was an accident.”

Rodrik held his gaze but said not a word, silently communicating that what Benjen had been told was another of Euron’s false stories.

“At the start of Balon’s Rebellion, Euron fled, somehow finding his way to Dragonstone and the court of Lord Stannis Baratheon. He went there to make a deal with the crown when his attempts for an audience with King Robert were rebuffed. There on Dragonstone, Euron offered to help put down his brother’s rebellion in exchange for the seastone chair and the title of prince in the same fashion as the leaders of Dorne. Eventually, Stannis convinced his brother, King Robert, to make the deal, but with one additional caveat. You see, Stannis has one child, his only direct heir. A daughter of just a few name days. Shireen is her name. The poor child had suffered from Greyscale, her face scarred. Stannis, being a vain man, hid her away in the castle and no one had seen her since. His wife, Lady Selyse, has been desperate to find a way to heal the child, rid her of the scars.”

Benjen realized, as he listened to Lord Rodrik’s story, that he had been to Dragonstone after he had heard of the child’s illness and he had not seen any evidence that she even existed anymore. He had just assumed she had bent sent off somewhere as a ward but now, as he looked back, he realized no one even mentioned her name.

“When Euron’s crew arrived, a red priestess stood at Lord Stannis’s side. From what my spy told me, Euron was easily lured in by her beauty and seduction. My man prayed to the Drowned God to protect him for fear our god would seek vengeance for Euron’s betrayal. Stannis knew that Euron had three nephews he needed to get out of his way. The eldest two were already men who would be in battle, so that would be easy for Euron to dispatch them both. But he knew the youngest one was only a child. The red priestess told Euron she needed old royal blood to cure Lady Shireen of her scars or she would never find happiness, never find a suitable match, never be of any value to Stannis. She told Euron if he brought his youngest nephew, who had old royal blood of the Iron Islands running through his veins, to Dragonstone, Stannis would make Euron the Prince of the Iron Islands and have the support of the Iron Throne behind him.”

“I am sorry, Lord Rodrik, but I find it difficult to believe that King Robert would agree to such a deal,” Benjen challenged.

“Aye, and so do many people in the seven kingdoms. But Stannis and Robert would rather have the Ironborn killing each other and save the lives of their own men. And so, Euron and his crew stealthily managed the deaths of my nephews, Rodrik and Maron, as well as my good-brother, Balon. He returned to Pyke with a signed peace treaty from the king and was not challenged for the seastone chair. Victarion may have done so if it wasn’t for that piece of paper that Euron waved in the air and the retreat of the King’s forces at Euron’s behest.”

Benjen was stunned at the accusations and the treasonous tale Lord Rodrik spoke of so freely to him. He wondered why this man trusted him with this tale.

“No sooner had Euron established his rule, then he was off to return to Dragonstone, little Theon in tow. Euron claimed he was taking him along to groom him as his heir, that it was time Theon learn to be a man and stop cowering behind his mother’s skirts. At eight years old, Theon was ready to join longer trips at sea, but I did not trust Euron’s words for one moment. So, I tasked my man to watch over him. A year later, Euron returned with that.” He gestured at the nutcracker again.

“Why are you telling me this tale, Lord Rodrik?”

“Because my man tells me that the red priestess drained Theon of his body warmth and used it to heal the little girl’s Greyscale scars. He said that as she performed the ritual, Theon's body changed into this wooden figure. You see, Theon is not dead. He is very much alive. My man says that as he stood at Euron’s side watching this ceremony take place on a beach below the castle, he prayed that the Drowned God protect Theon. He claims he saw the Drowned God battle with the Lord of Light for Theon's soul. That the red priestess tried to burn the wooden figure after Shireen was healed, but the figure would not burn. The flames licked all around it, but could not touch it.”

Being a believer in the Old Gods and having seen their power growing up in the north, Benjen was doubting this man’s story less and less.

“I am telling you this tale because you have been gifted this figure that holds the soul of my dear nephew and I am asking you to protect it. It is my hope that one day I may find the answer to free him. I have sailors scouring libraries across the kingdoms and beyond for books on the Lord of Light and anything that might help release a trapped soul. And I ask that if one day I do find a way, that I may visit your family and get my nephew back.”

“This is quite a fascinating story, Lord Rodrik. And I am sure my brother would welcome you to Winterfell, but why not just take this figure back to Harlaw with you?”

“He has already been here for nearly three years. I have nightmares that Euron has gotten drunk and thrown him in the fire for kindling. But my biggest fear is if Euron ever realizes that the Drowned God protected Theon, that this is Theon and there could be a way to bring him back, he would try to destroy this nutcracker. He would believe that Theon is a threat to his rule.”

“Well, isn't your niece a threat as well?”

“Hmph. You would be right about that,” he agreed, looking out at the forlorn girl sitting in the chair beside Prince Euron. “But Euron has very old fashioned views of women. Her womanhood blinds him from seeing her true power and threat. He sees her as his property to marry off to his benefit. He will rue the day he tries that.”

The two men sat in silence as they observed the people swirling around the room in their drunkenness.

“I must return to my ship. I ask you again, please protect the nutcracker. He is the true prince of the Iron Islands.”

❄❄❄❄🌲❄❄❄❄

“Oh, Uncle, what an intriguing story. Is it really true?” Sansa was now sitting up, fully alert in her bed. 

“I am not sure, my sweet niece,” he answered, tucking a fiery strand of stray hair behind her ear. Then he glanced behind him as if checking to make sure her mother did not hear him telling her such a fairy tale. He turned back to her and whispered, “do not share this tale with anyone. It will be our secret. And while I don’t really believe everything Lord Rodrik told me, we best be on the safe side and protect that little nutcracker."

Her uncle stood up and walked out of her room and into the nursery. He returned a moment later and tucked the bandaged nutcracker into her bandaged arm.

“You two are quite a pair,” he smiled at their wounds. “A pirate prince and his fearless northern princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU is based on the book "The Nutcracker and the Mouse King" by E.T.A. Hoffmann. It is much darker than the ballet. The story goes that Godfather Drosselmeyer was tasked with protecting the King's daughter from the Mouse Queen. He failed to do so and the Mouse Queen turned the princess into an ugly nutcracker. The King blamed Godfather Drosselmeyer and tasked him with finding a cure. Drosselmeyer, in a crazy confusing story, found out that he needed to find a specific person, the only person who could crack a special nut. It ends up being Drosselmeyer's nephew. As soon as he cracks the nut, the princess gains back her beauty and the nephew turns into a wooden nutcracker. So, I worked to weave a similar story with elements from Game of Thrones.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this story. We are halfway through :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Your kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks bring a smile to my face. Your comments keep me motivated and writing.  
> Come find me on tumblr @sapphire-reverie
> 
> NOTES:  
> 1\. Chapter 1 is set in the canon year 293 AC.  
> 2\. My writing playlist for this fic: The Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky, of course :-)  
> 3\. In this AU, Uncle Benjen had yet to join the Night’s Watch. Instead, he serves as an emissary for his older brother, traveling the kingdom on diplomatic missions.  
> 4\. In Game of Thrones Episode 1.03, Eddard gives Sansa a doll as a gift. She responds by saying “I haven’t played with dolls since I was eight.” Therefore, in this fic, I made sure Sansa wasn’t older than 8 years old.  
> 5\. In the Nutcracker, the protagonist, Maria, has an old doll is named Clara. When Maria enters Marchpane Castle, she is introduced to the Nutcracker’s sisters who look like her doll, Clara. So, I decided to name Sansa's doll after Theon's sister, Yara.  
> 6\. The candy adorning the fir tree in the Great Hall is a mash-up of food that is known to exist in the ASOIAF canon verse and historical candy from before the Industrial Revolution.  
> 7\. In the first ASOIAF book, A Game of Thrones, Sansa reads a book of legends that includes the story of Jonquil and Florian. This is a story of a maiden falling in love with a homely-looking knight of a birth status not deemed appropriate for her.  
> 8\. It is mentioned frequently that both Lady Catelyn and Sansa are skilled with needlework. I imagined in this AU that Lady Stark, wife to the Warden of the North, would apply her skills to creating gifts for the children of the various vassal houses when they visited for the New Year’s celebration. I thought it fitting that she would make a stuffed bear for little Lyanna Mormont. My AU headcanon is that she tried making dresses for the Mormont girls the first year they visited and that was a major fail. (See She-Bears)  
> 9\. Macadamia nuts are the world’s hardest nut to crack and cannot be cracked by the average nutcracker.


End file.
